


Millennium's Edge

by Azelto



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Copious Amounts of Cum, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, also strawberries, and a really really really long orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azelto/pseuds/Azelto
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale take edging to a whole new level





	Millennium's Edge

An orgasm was such a sinful thing to want. But there was nothing else on earth that Aziraphale desired more. He had thought about it every hour of every day for the past millennium.

It had all started just after the beginning of the eleventh century. Aziraphale and Crowley had gotten drunk and had started to fool around. Even though sober Crowley knew that Aziraphale did not have any genitals, drunk Crowley had tried to pleasure the mound in between his legs anyway. And to both of their surprise, Crowley’s stimulation of the mound had actually given Aziraphale pleasure. He had started moaning and whining in a way that Crowley had never thought an angel could be capable of.

But just when Aziraphale had felt something to build up, which he knew from instinct would be an orgasm, Crowley had ceased to pleasure him.

The following morning, Aziraphale had tried to pleasure himself by stroking and massaging his mound. But nothing happened. Surely he hadn’t just imagined a kind of pleasure that had felt so real?

The next time Aziraphale had been alone with Crowley, one thing led to another and they picked up from where they had left off last time. And the way Crowley stroked the mound like he was handling a delicate flower threatened to drive Aziraphale insane. It was not long before he found himself on the edge of climax for the second time.

And then Crowley stopped pleasuring him again.

No matter how much Aziraphale whined, Crowley refused to resume stimulating him, saying that he was no longer in the mood. Of course, Aziraphale knew that Crowley was lying. It was in his nature as a demon to always be in the mood for sex. It was more likely that he wanted to tease Aziraphale by denying him his release.

How long was this going to go on for?

Over the next few times that the two of them got intimate, the same thing happened. Weeks passed. Then months. Then years, decades, centuries.

By the time the second millennium came, Aziraphale was an absolute mess. Of course, he managed to hold it together when he was working. When he was in public, too. But behind closed doors, there was barely a moment that he didn’t spend with tears in his eyes. He would whine and whimper as he tried in vain to touch himself.

But he had learned over the past thousand years that deriving pleasure from himself was impossible. Angels were unable to sin. Only a demon could cause Aziraphale to feel something so impure. It was Crowley alone who would be able to give Aziraphale his first orgasm, and it appeared that Crowley was fully aware of this. But he withheld Aziraphale’s orgasm anyway.

The amount of frustration that Aziraphale felt at being edged over the course of a millennium was beyond human imagination. He had to exert an immense amount of effort to concentrate on anything. Even something as simple as organising his books was an exhausting task. Every second that passed, his mind was plagued by the thought that if he could just orgasm, just once, then a thousand years’ worth of torment would be over. He was constantly having to stop himself from fantasizing about what it would be like, because that would only serve to make his frustration even worse.

And whenever he was alone with Crowley, he would beg. He would get down on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, pleading him to just let him have one orgasm. One was all he was asking for, and if he gave it to him he would leave him alone for good.

Every time he did this, though, Crowley would always deny him.

The supposed end of the world came and went, destroying any hopes Aziraphale had of Crowley letting him orgasm just before the Rapture started. In fact, it was not until well after the first decade of the Twenty-First Century had passed that Crowley started to show signs that he might be getting tired of his little game.

When he invited Aziraphale round to his flat on a late August evening, Aziraphale assumed that he was going to leave having still not had his orgasm. But when Crowley led him into the bedroom, he saw the luxurious king size bed had been piled high with silken cushions and blankets. Behind the curtains a window was open, letting in a fresh summer breeze. And at the foot of the bed was an enormous bowl full of strawberries.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Aziraphale gestured towards them, “what exactly are these for?”

“You mean you don’t know what today is?” Crowley asked.

“No?”

“You don’t remember at all? It’s exactly a thousand years since we first started fucking.”

Aziraphale’s face turned bright red. What he and Crowley had been doing in private for the past millennium was a secret that would have drastic consequences if anybody else found out. But he had been so preoccupied with his need to come that he had lost track of long it had been. But if he were to be honest with himself, he had been edged so much in the bedroom that their affair had seemed to have gone on for much longer than that.

“I thought because you’ve been so good for me for such a long time,” Crowley continued, “that I’d let you have a little treat. I’ve locked the door and set the alarm, so there’s no chance of anyone interrupting us. We’re going to be in here for quite some time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s been a thousand years, hasn’t it? You’re not just going to have a five-second orgasm and then go home. All that cum stored inside you it going to take a lot longer to come out. That’s why I made you a nest. What do you think?”

Aziraphale drew in a deep breath, and started to tremble, feet digging into the plush carpet. He knew Crowley must be telling the truth; a thousand years’ worth of edging was going to result in one hell of an orgasm. And was he ready for it? Of course he wasn’t. No amount of research or imagination would ever be able to prepare him for the tsunami of pleasure that Crowley promised him he was going to feel.

“You need it really bad, don’t you?” Crowley said. “Come on then my angel, lie down now and I’ll get you sorted out.”

Letting out a whimper at the promise of relief at long last, Aziraphale let Crowley lead him over to the bed and make sure that he was sitting comfortably.

“Take off your shirt for me, there’s a good boy.” Crowley said.

With fumbling fingers Aziraphale unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a hairless chest and a flat stomach. The breeze from the window felt cool on his skin. Crowley couldn’t resist leaning down to lick one of the angel’s rose-pink nipples. “So pretty for me.” He murmured as he trailed his tongue around the base, then playfully flicked at the tip. All the while Aziraphale was letting out tiny little gasps as his body responded to a kind of pleasure that he was unable to give himself.

“Such a light shade of pink, so delicate.” Crowley said as he moved onto the other nipple. It hardened within moments of him touching it. By now Aziraphale’s nipples had been classically conditioned to perk up whenever he was near Crowley. “These cute little things are always so pleased to see me.”

“Please…” Aziraphale whined.

“Be patient now, I’ll get there eventually.” Crowley then press the tip of his tongue to the tip of Aziraphale’s nipple in the lightest of touches. But Aziraphale’s body was so overstimulated that even this was enough to make him shudder.

“Crowley, I’m begging you, it’s too much.” Tears were beginning to form at the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes.

“All right then, if you insist. But I want to get a look at that gorgeous back of yours before we move on to the main event.”

With a weary sigh, Aziraphale turned around so that his back was facing Crowley. He fingered one of the silk blankets in a vain attempt to try and distract himself from his need.

Crowley seemed to have some sort of fetish for Aziraphale’s back. Now he traced his fingers along the lines of his shoulder blades, stroking him as he would an exotic breed of cat. He caressed the moles on Aziraphale’s back, which were caramel-coloured to match his blond hair. Crowley loved their texture and shape, and how he could move them slightly with his finger. He leaned closer and licked them, imagining that he could taste actual caramel. He lapped at them as he would an ice cream on a hot day in midsummer, and moaned at the salty taste on his tongue.

“Why must you always lick those?” Aziraphale asked.

“Because I like them, of course.” Crowley replied. “They’re so sweet. And soft. Just like you, in fact.”

“If you think I’m so sweet,” Aziraphale turned around to look Crowley in the eye, “why have you denied me for so long?”

“You want to know the real reason?”

“Yes.”

“It’s because you’re adorable when you’re in pain. When you’re crying and begging me, I could honestly just eat you up. My poor angel is so innocent that he hasn’t even had his first orgasm! Seeing how desperate you are for it is the most erotic thing to witness. Here,” Crowley slipped his hand down Aziraphale’s cotton trousers, teasing at the fold of his thigh, “is this what you want?”

“ _Ah-hhh_ …” Aziraphale gasped. “M-more… more…”

“Be _patient_ , angel. If you’ve waited a thousand years, then you can wait another few minutes.” He moved his index finger in a tiny circle over the sensitive skin, making Aziraphale tremble. “This turns you on, doesn’t it?” He said. “And it makes you want me to do dirty things to you, is that right? Things that angels should never be allowed to think about.”

Aziraphale let out a needy whine.

But Crowley didn’t stop. “Oh, but what if I were to keep doing this to you? Touching you here, and never where you wanted me to touch? Giving you a taste of what you could feel, but never letting you feel it. I could keep on at this for another thousand years. Teasing and tempting you without giving you pleasure, and there would be absolutely nothing you could do about it.”

Upon hearing this, Aziraphale started to wail like a child. He couldn’t take it anymore, but there was no choice for him but to take it. He was sweating and shivering with frustration, his lungs constricting and his toes curling. If he had a soul like a human, then there was no doubt that he would have sold it for an orgasm centuries ago. He remembered a time during the Sixteenth Century that Crowley had spend an entire forty-eight hours teasing his thighs. He shivered at the memory of the agony that he had been in.

“There is, of course, only one thing better than seeing you like this,” Crowley said, “And that would be the sight of you in the throes of rapture, having your first orgasm after being denied it for a length of time unimaginable to a human. What if I told you that one of the main reasons why I have edged you for so long is that I wanted to wait until I could find a way of capturing the moment when it finally comes?”

Crowley then reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a camera. It was glossy and black, and it fit in the palm of his hand but it looked as if it had cost more than a thousand pounds. “Don’t worry, I won’t show the pictures to anyone else. They’ll be our secret.” He winked.

Then he helped Aziraphale to lie down on the cushions, arranging them so that he lay in the most relaxing position possible, with his lower half raised a little bit. Crowley had purposefully chosen ones that were baby blue, to match the colour of Aziraphale’s eyes. Next he removed the rest of Aziraphale’s clothes, revealing smooth skin in place of a phallus. Without wasting any more time, Crowley set to work.

His fingers traced spirals and swirls from his own imagination over the mound, in the gentlest of strokes, making Aziraphale’s eyes roll back in pleasure. The two of them had been doing this for so long that by now Crowley knew exactly what Aziraphale liked, and how he would react to having it done to him. With his fingers Crowley wrote every letter of every alphabet that he knew, and Aziraphale shuddered and moaned as if his entire existence depended on him being able to orgasm.

The skin of Aziraphale’s mound was as soft and delicate as the petals of a flower. And even though Crowley handled it as if it were just that, the resulting noises that Aziraphale made sounded as if he were being pounded into oblivion. His moans were high and girlish, and loud enough to make Crowley glad that the bedroom was soundproof. His cheeks were flushed, his golden curls were a mess, and his long eyelashes were wet with tears.

To Crowley the sight was one of the the most ravishing things he had ever gazed upon. Aziraphale was such a mess that his higher-ups would banish him to Hell for good if they knew what he was doing. But as Crowley had said, it was a secret shared by the two of them alone. And if Crowley were to be honest with himself, he would have said that Aziraphale was the most entertaining partner he had ever had the pleasure to get intimate with.

And then Aziraphale’s moans took on a more urgent, more desperate tone, and Crowley knew the orgasm he had waited for for an entire millennium was about to take over his body. With one hand Crowley moved the bowl of strawberries so that it rested below Aziraphale’s crotch.

And this time he didn’t stop pleasuring him.

The cry that Aziraphale let out was the most beautiful, most melodic thing Crowley had ever heard. It was loud enough to drown out any sound of the distant traffic that came from the window. And on cue, a small hole opened up towards the bottom of his mound and a thick white substance squirted out, covering the strawberries. Crowley took a polished silver teaspoon out of his pocket and tasted some of it: as he had expected, it had the same taste and texture as whipped cream.

Most human orgasms only last for a few seconds. But the orgasm of an angel who has been edged for a thousand years is much longer, and much more powerful. Aziraphale’s body convulsed, his mouth open wide as he drew in ragged breaths to let out squeals of ecstacy, and still the orgasm kept coming.

Crowley massaged Aziraphale’s mound, helping him to get all of it out, everything that had built up inside him for the past millennium. The amount of pleasure Aziraphale must be feeling to have it all come out was unimaginable to Crowley. He hoped a thousand years’ worth of angel cum would be enough to cover all the strawberries in the bowl. And it seemed like he wasn’t going to be disappointed.

Over the next hour, Aziraphale’s hips moved up and down in a regular rhythm, a spoonful of cum squirting out of the hole every time his lower body lifted. He gasped for breath in between moans, and if he were human he would most likely have lost consciousness from sheer exhaustion by now. The bowl of strawberries gradually filled with more and more cream, and every now and again Crowley had to use the teaspoon to spread it around so that the distribution was even.

Then two hours passed. Then three. And Aziraphale’s orgasm was still ongoing.

Crowley had been so preoccupied making sure that the cream covered the strawberries that he had almost forgotten about the camera. Abandoning the fruit, he turned it on with the hand that he wasn’t using to pleasure Aziraphale, and snapped several pictures, before recording a video. The light from the summer sunset filtering through the window and across Aziraphale’s hair, his rose-flushed skin, and the blue silk of the cushions around him combined to make a shot that resembled a classical painting. Crowley was no professional photographer, but the quality of the picture was of a standard that surprised even him.

Four hours passed, then five.

The bowl of strawberries was now piled high with cream. Aziraphale’s body was still producing cum, although his movements has started to slow by now.

“Come on, my angel,” Crowley soothed him, “that’s it, it’s all coming out now. You’re doing so well. Let is all out, that’s it…”

Aziraphale’s cheeks were now streaked with tears. Sweat had dried on his skin, producing a wonderful smell. He tried to speak, “C… Cr… Crow… ley…”

But Crowley reassured him, “Not much longer now, the bowl is nearly ready. You’ve been so good for me this evening.”

When six hours had passed, the squirts of cream started to decrease in volume. And then, after an orgasm that had lasted for three hundred and forty-seven minutes, Aziraphale came down from his high.

“ _Uhhhhh_ …” The noise he made came out in a breathy whine. Then for a long time the room was silent except for Aziraphale’s breathing, and the passing of cars several stories below the flat.

“Well, I must say,” Crowley said when Aziraphale opened his eyes, “that was one of the prettiest sights I have ever seen.”

The relief that washed over Aziraphale now that he had had his orgasm was incomparable to anything he had ever felt. He tried to sit up, then decided against it and lay down trying to regain his breath, letting the feeling of post-coital satisfaction wash over him.

When he had recovered enough to prop himself up on his elbows, he asked Crowley, “What are you going to do with those strawberries?”

Crowley grinned. “I’m throwing a party at a secret location tomorrow. Anyone who’s anyone will be there, and the refreshments must be of the highest quality. And every demon knows that there is not a better or rarer ingredient to go with strawberries than angel cum. You’re invited, of course.”

“I, er…” Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to feel about the idea of attending a party at which one of his bodily fluids would be on the menu. But he supposed it was nice of Crowley to offer him an invitation. “I suppose I could stay for a short while.” He said.

“Fantastic!” Crowley ruffled Aziraphale’s curls and gave him a short kiss on the lips. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a night to remember.”


End file.
